


Changed

by FrenchCaresse



Series: Katze's Verse [2]
Category: Ai no Kusabi
Genre: Castrati, Edgeplay, First Time, M/M, Master/Pet, Threesome - M/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-04
Updated: 2015-02-06
Packaged: 2018-03-05 06:04:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,597
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3108800
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FrenchCaresse/pseuds/FrenchCaresse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Part two of Katze's Verse.</p><p>"Gazing into the endless depths of the night sky, Riki wondered how Iason and Katze were faring." In which Riki waits, Iason is impatient and Katze has a revelation. </p><p>More sexual tension and M/M/m</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Riki waits.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to Katze's verse.
> 
> I have post-edited out most author's notes for easier reading of the finished series.
> 
> Extremely Mature audience only. Contains angst and sexual acts and BDSM play and bondage and sex toys and oh my god, the emotional roller-coaster. I will warn specifically for particularly triggering chapters.
> 
> Take heed, I write for adults. And I appreciate feedback!
> 
> Xxx
> 
> FrenchCaresse

Riki watched the grey fumes curling into the night before being swept away.

Inhaling deeply, he focused on the warmth deep inside as his ribs stretched to their limit, holding the smoke. Slowly, he blew it out in a steady stream.

It was as good a way as any to focus his breathing. The flow stuttered, stopping when his throat hitched, then rushed out in a desperate puff.

With a broken little sound, Riki's control slipped. He really couldn't help grabbing the wet length throbbing against his abs.

Fuck.

Dragging his hand away, Iason's Pet stoically took another drag on his cigarette. He ignored the tension that ached in his belly, gritted his teeth against the sharp clench of his abused asshole when his hips shifted on the rough concrete.

He had gone through the entire cycle of arousal three -or was it four? -times already. Riki had pushed himself from the first fluttery beginnings, through the focused build to orgasm until, stupid cock ring, it was simply too much. Now he rested again in that muggy resigned space between, waiting to come down enough to start over.

Fucking fucking FUCK.

Shaking the hair from his eyes, Riki let the night air cool the sweat on his body. His nipples tightened to achy points as goosebumps slowly crawled up his chest: just another spot of maddening sensation, ignored like the rest.

When Iason had left with Katze, Riki had dutifully made his way to the bedroom.

At first, it had been a relief to strip, falling naked onto the giant bed. The sheets slid across his skin, cool as running water. His hands had flowed everywhere too, enjoying the sensual beginnings of sexual arousal. His grip had soon centered on his cock though.

Mmmmm...the pleasure had grown, simple and comfortable.

Fantasies of Katze filled his mind, melting into memories of past experiences with Iason. The smell of clean linen, the remembered whisper of Iason's breath on his neck, the dull throb in his balls... Riki savored the pleasure as it grew, making him gasp for every breath.

Time to get down to business... He was entering the focused stage of arousal, orgasm a beacon beginning to shine on the horizon.

The first finger slipped into his ass had been a relief. Small, a promise of more.

Riki had never been very patient. Quickly he had pushed one, then two more fingers in. The need had gotten serious then, groans torn from him at the stretch. Lube had dripped as he worked himself, imagining Iason's huge dick pushing in. He could almost feel Iason's eyes on him, a phantom hungry blue gaze appreciating the carelessly slutty position, on his back with strong legs bent up.

Soon, he grew tired of it. His shoulder hurt from the stretch and he just wasn't able to reach that place inside...

The dildo was hard plastic, sleek against his tongue when he put it into his mouth. It was perhaps half the size of Iason's giant dick, but the Blondie had set his rules very clearly. Riki was allowed to prepare for him, but in no way was it acceptable for him to be too loose and easy...

Riki let his head fall back against the pillow as the blunt cylinder breached him. All alone in his Master's enormous bed, there was no need for pretense. Riki was neither trying to hold back, nor was he putting on a show. He really didn't care if the way he bent over scrunched up his abs, or if he was grunting inelegantly.

Gripping the ridges at the base of the dildo, Riki had worked himself open. Deep strokes that felt sooo good, sending shivers up his spine. Smoothly in and out, a promise of relief.

His dick kicked against his stomach, and Riki used his other hand to stroke himself.

Oh yes.

This was good.

Rocking his hips, Riki could feel the orgasm coiling tighter.

Soon...

Riki bit his lip, pushing the dildo deep and twisting it while speeding the hand on his cock. God so close, so close.

Hair stuck to his face as fresh sweat covered him. Riki's movements grew desperate, relief so near he could taste it.

Oh.

My.

God.

He hated Iason. The foggy thought swirled through the haze of lust. Fucking cock ring. Riki couldn't cum.

Except... He could. So close, his body screaming that he was on the verge of a massive orgasm. Maybe Iason was wrong, maybe Riki could cum anyway. He didn't even care about the punishment that would certainly follow. He just needed to get off.

With a groan, Riki flipped onto all fours.

His swollen erection dangled stiffly, and his pelvis rocked involuntarily. Twitchy little moves, backing up onto the dildo. Balancing on one hand, Riki resumed fucking himself with vigor. Fuck fuck fuck.

The feeling built again, a surge of pleasure so intense it would have, should have resulted in splashing pulses of semen. Riki's balls hurt, unbearably tighttighttight... Fuuuuuuuck.

A large blurt of clear fluid appeared, further slicking his engorged dick head and doing absolutely fucking nothing to relieve the ache inside. His Master's metal ring glinted dully, snug against the root of his cock.

Mocking him.

Reminding him.

He was Iason's.

Now, Riki was angry. Determined to get off, he pressed his groaning face into the mattress as his arm gave out. Letting go of the dildo, handle still sticking out obscenely from his raised butt, Riki focused his energies on his cock.

Stripping it decidedly, he jerked off furiously. His toes clenched and the breath sobbed out of him in frustration. The pleasure was intense, soooo intense.

Too intense, raising all the hairs on his thighs and skittering in spastic twitches up his back.

Soclosesoclosesoclose. He would show Iason.

White hot streaks ran jagged behind his closed eyelids.

He.

Was.

Going.

To.

Come.

Except...

The stimulation was growing too much. Grinding his teeth, Riki pushed through it. Stroking fast and hard, he couldn't help loosening his grip as the intensity made his ears ring. Nerve-endings in his shaft protested, warring with the instinct to reach closure.

His thigh cramped and the pain of overstimulation finally tipped the balance the other way.

Fuck.

Riki's hand dropped, fisting loosely against the sheets. Iason's Pet fell heavily to his side, panting and sweat drenched. His cock still jumped, rock hard and quivering.

Unfulfilled dammit.

Gulping ragged lungfuls of air, Riki stared unseeing at the wall; his heart raced wildly with the urgent need that still roared through him.

Shaking, Riki waited it out.

He wouldn't cum.

He couldn't cum.

He was Iason's Pet.

Painfully slowly, the overwhelming-right-there gotta-do-something-anything-to-finish-off-right-the-fuck-NOW feeling subsided.

Riki rested, limbs heavy in spite of the tension that still curled inside. Little tremors shook him when the pleasure flashed and burst, bubbles of need that popped uselessly.

Fuuuuuuuuuck.

It took all of his energy to roll his face into the damp sheets, hiding how his expression twisted. A pitiful sob leaked out of him when the forgotten dildo was instinctly pushed from his puffy asshole.

Swallowing against the clench in his throat, Riki took a shaky inhale.

He wouldn't cry, goddammit.

Some objective part of his brain whispered that this was the worst bit, he just needed to wait it out. It didn't bring much comfort though, defeated despair welling in waves as his body was buffeted by residual tension.

It was unusual for Riki, feeling such absolute surrender. Complete helplessness. In the throes of Iason's torture, the instinct to fight always fired Riki. Even when his body ached and he was being used, adrenaline still crystallized in a core of resistance.

Now though, his fire was all fizzled out.

All alone, aching and tired, Riki's sense of self-power was completely crushed. Faced with the cold mirror of his slave status, Riki couldn't even muster the energy to hate Iason.

Minutes passed and Riki slowly climbed his way out of the tide of pitiful self-loathing. Still shaking, he eventually managed to sit up.

Jupiter, he ached. Like, fucking everywhere.

Swiping at his wet cheeks, Riki gathered the broken remnants of his will power into resigned acceptance.

He couldn't cum.

No use dwelling on the fact.

Pushing to his feet, Riki needed a distraction or he would start trying to relieve the urge that still raged in his gut.

Slipping his arms into a discarded silk shirt of Iason's that was draped over a chair in the corner, Riki wobbled towards the living room, aiming for the cigarettes in his coat pocket.

He hissed and had to grab the armrest not to crumble to the floor when bending over accidentally brushed his oversensitive cock head against the couch.

Outwardly calm, but body still sooooo greedy for stimulation.

Fuck.

Nothing for it but to wait it out.

God he hated his Blondie right then.

Riki smiled a bit at this sign of the return of his normal personnality. Riki the Dark never stayed down long...

Gazing into the endless depths of the night sky, Riki wondered how Iason and Katze were faring.


	2. Iason waits

The soft hiss of the pneumatic door made Riki's stomach flip with anticipation.

Yes!

Iason and Katze were back!

Yes! Yes! Yes!

Riki might have wriggled a bit in excitement. At least he didn't go full on happy-dance, proof that he had maintained a modicum of dignity.

He was so pathetic.

Schooling his features into a bland expression, Riki hopped down from the balcony wall and headed back inside. His eyes widened at the vision that greeted him.

God, Iason was gorgeous. Tall and elegant, that unbelievable hair framing a perfect figure. And Katze... A sinful promise in his suggestive Pet costume.

Even from halfway across the house, Riki could read the tension radiating between them.

Fuck.

Riki's body continued to walk, but he experienced a strange lurch inside. It felt as though his stomach got left behind for a few seconds, then slammed back into place as a rush of adrenaline made the Pet light headed.

The expression on his Master's porcelain face screamed trouble for his Pet. Iason's jaw was set, the narrow slit of his eyes glinting icy blue.

Oh Goddamn.

Riki knew that look on his Master. Restraint so harsh it would, it _needed_ to explode somehow. Usually with devastating consequences to his Pet. 

Riki's stride faltered at the feel of a sloppy drip of lube reaching his thigh when his asshole pulsed in response to his Master's silent need. He could feel his high cheekbones burning red already, a shaky anticipation stringing his nerves high. 

"Riki." Iason proclaimed, carefully toneless. "Bed."

Yes... finally! 

As Iason turned towards the hallway, Riki realized Katze was left standing in the foyer, hunched on himself and uncomfortable.

The Pet stopped, hesitating. Iason's nostrils flared in frustration as he looked back over his shoulder.

His Pet needed to obey tonight.

Iason was in no mood to tolerate insubordination. He simply needed to relieve this terrible tension. 

And Riki wanted it; Iason could smell the reek of sex on him halfway across the room, even through the cloying spice of shower gel.

"But..." Riki's voice lit fires in Iason's belly and a gloved hand fisted at the onlaught of passion. He observed the dark hands gesticulating between the three men and knew his Pet was asking "What about Katze?" 

Indeed, what about Katze? 

Iason could not think at the moment, mind obnobulated by base desires. Katze was too delicate a situation to mess with cavalierly.

"Later..." He intoned. 

Riki was going to argue; he wanted to waste time speaking of things. Iason could see the stubborness spilling out on his features.

Jupiter. 

Iason couldn't find the patience to deal with complications right now. The Blondie had determined during the strained ride back that postponing the inevitable was preferable to a brash decision. 

Of course, Riki wanted to make things easier on his friend. Loyal brat. He was correct in his assessment that ignoring Katze right now would certainly create self-doubt and hesitation in the dealer.

However, despite all his good intentions, Riki's judgement was flawed. He simply did not possess knowledge of all the factors at play.

Iason's self-control was stretched so thin it was beginning to tear at the edges. 

The Blondie's calculating mind was not fooled by his inflated ego, which whispered he should play with Katze anyway. He knew his limits. Iason knew he would be incapable of restraint once he was physically engaged. Riki could, and would, take whatever Iason dished out. He would even beg for more, perversely fascinating creature.

Katze was... An unkown variable. Fragile. And virgin.

He needed careful handling. 

Heck, he deserved it, for all his years of loyal service! 

So there was no way Iason was letting him join Riki and himself in sex.

Not in the state he was in. Better the sting of perceived rejection than rough handling that might crack the red-head's flimsy pieced-together serenity.

Gods, the temptation to ignore consequences and indulge was strong.

Two pale humans, bent and spread before him...

The image had tormented the Blondie all night. Iason contained a shudder, grinding his teeth against yet another surge of arousal. 

No. 

Iason blinked, succesfully keeping most of his turmoil from marring his peaceful expression. At least he hoped he did. Riki appeared thoughtful, staring at his Master in a way that was quite inappropriate. He rubbed the back of his neck, causing the loose shirt he was wrapped in to slip down a brown collarbone.

Delectable. 

Breakable. 

Almost child-like in appearance with his Master's too-big clothes.

Iason was not fooled. Riki was hardly innocent. His brown eyes twinkled with compassion and he seemed to correctly guess Iason's agony as the silence stretched. 

_Perhaps the mongrel could deal with Katze?_

Decision made, Iason pivoted and stormed to his bedroom.

"You have three minutes." The Blondie haughtily threw the words over his shoulder. 

Smugly satisfied, he left the two humans together. Let them do as they wished in the short interval. 

After this last delay, Iason was getting off.

...

For a second or two, both mongrels were frozen, staring down the quiet hallway where the Blondie's imposing silhouette had disappeared. 

Coming to life in a sudden rush of movement, Riki hurried to Katze. Grabbing his hand, he pulled the dealer into the living room. 

Three minutes, fuck.

Riki had no doubt that Iason would not grant him one second more. And that he would pay dearly for every instant he kept his Master waiting. Somehow. 

A quick glance behind him showed Katze following his rapid lead surprisingly easily in the stilleto boots. Lean thighs flashed gracefully and the tall man hardly wobbled. 

Katze allowed himself to be steered to the couch and made to sit, while Riki hovered over him. 

Riki's worried eyes flicked to the empty hallway. The Pet could feel his Master's silent call, which was ridiculous.

It was true anyway. 

Riki felt the tug of an invisible cord leading straight the bedroom, slowly winding tighter. Every passing second increased the itch to run back to Iason. 

Recalling the carefully veiled intensity of his Blondie's expression, Riki forced himself to concentrate on Katze. Three minutes. He could wait three minutes. Riki wasn't even sure if he meant Iason or himself. Both, probably. What a night!

" God, what did you DO to him? " Riki hissed.

Katze shook his head defensively. His formerly neat curls were a tousled mess, sticking out every which way in wavy strands. It gave him a younger appearance, softening his severe angles. 

Discarding the dark mask, Katze answered quietly. "We didn't do anything. It was almost boring. We got on that ship without a problem; those so-called security guards never questionned anything." 

He stopped to arch an eyebrow when Riki suddenly gasped, taking a spastic half-step backwards. Riki motioned for him to continue, though sudden tension now poured through his stance. 

"The dealer was a fat self-sufficient idiot." Katze's mouth twisted in disgust and his hand groped his chest unconsciously. Realizing what he was doing, Katze gave a little derisive smile and lets his fingers come to rest on his thighs. 

Habit.

There weren't any cigarettes in his coat pocket. 

Because he was not wearing a coat. 

He was wearing a motherfucking corset. 

Riki was too preoccupied to laugh at his faux-pas though. He was beginning to sweat, and his chest moved with rapid pants. Movements jerky, Riki walked to the black leather jacket that was bunched over the far armrest.

Fumbling through his pockets, he chewed on his lower lip while Katze continued his explanation.

 "He made us watch a Pet show. Some blue abomination with three breasts getting pounded by a huge muscular monster with skin like rock..." Katze frowned. Raoul's genetically-altered lab-grown mutants, created strictly for sex, made him uncomfortable. At least Riki was a true human, even if he was a Pet. 

Riki.

Katze could tell that he was fighting his Pet calling right now. 

His face was tense, squinty-eyed refusal to acknowledge the pleasure that made him squirm.

Slim hips twisted anyway as he handed Katze his pack of cigarettes. 

Katze crossed his legs, sinking further into the couch. The stockings slid pleasantly against each other, a sensual slither running up his spine. 

Katze was finding that watching Riki refuse to give in to Iason's manipulation was oddly fascinating. There was potential for him to get aroused by this play, for sure. His fingers twitched, a suppressed urge to touch his cock and feel it grow. Sometimes, like now, Katze couldn't decide if his inability to be physically aroused without direct stimulation was a curse or a blessing. 

The castrate was suprised to feel the perverse longing to watch Riki break. He had never entertained such fantasies before. And from the look of things, it might actually occur fucking soon. 

A barely audible groan escaped Riki's throat and he bent over, gripping the arm rest. His dark hair fell forward as his head dangled, fingernails turning white where he braced himself.

Fucking Iason, controlling his Plaything with the cock ring... from the other room. Reminding him. 

Three minutes. 

By his Master's gracious leave only. 

Damn, Iason didn't play fair. 

He didn't need to.

Pleasure swamped Riki, a blazing wave building in his quivering thighs and belly. It would be such a waste to cum like this, alone and shivering.

No. 

Don't think about cumming. 

Focus.

Katze.

Three minutes. Two now. 

Riki's voice was rough as he asked " So it's done then? The Pirate is dead? " 

Katze shook a cigarette from the pack, watching how Riki rocked from side to side restlessly. His eyes were fevered, half-hidden by his bangs, but they were still lucid. Katze was impressed in spite of himself.

Kid had spunk. 

And was goddamn stubborn. 

The side light from the foyer swept thick shadows over half of Riki's face, an angular slice of light and dark. It was fascinating, almost enough to distract Katze from the question. He was beginning to understand Iason's obsession with the mongrel.

"The Pirate isn't dead; not yet, no. It wouldn't do to have him die while Jupiter's Chosen was with him! We didn't go in there, guns blazing and screaming for justice!"

Riki whimpered, and nodded. 

He wasn't thinking. 

Well, _obviously_ , he wasn't thinking. His brain currently pulsed in his dick head.

Katze slipped a cigarette between his pale lips, then fingered the lock of hair into place over his scar.

"I implanted him with a tiny intra-dermal nanobot cartridge. Just pressed it to his skin. He never noticed. Now that it's activated, the microscopic machines will begin multiplying in his blood stream. Multiple organ failure within fourteen days." 

Katze's dispassionate tone would have sent a chill of fear into Riki -except he was too distracted to properly process it. 

The pleasure in his dick was morphing into pain.

Phantom fingernails dragged furrows along his shaft. 

Iason warning.  He was impatient.

Time was running out, three minutes over or not.

"But Iason is..." Riki jumped as the constriction increased, an invisible fist squeezing his balls.

"He... You..." Riki couldn't continue, hips curling forward in very real discomfort. None of what Katze described explained how worked-up Iason was.

Katze calmly lit his cigarette... He was smoking inside the house! Fuck! And on purpose too, Riki could see the quiet challenge in his eyes. Not that he was going to say anything. It was Iason's house, and anyway he had more pressing concerns.

Like the electric shocks that now pinched randomly in his crotch. 

Katze seemed a bit disappointed Riki didn't take the bait, but he answered his confused glare anyway. 

"Iason and I... We didn't do anything. I just knelt on the floor by Iason's chair during the show, and he played with my hair a bit. That's all." He took a deep drag on the smoke, eyes hooding in pleasure while still holding Riki's sceptical gaze.

He didn't add _"Why would Iason want to do anything more with a broken old ex-Furniture?"_

Riki opened his mouth to respond, but what came out was a grunt. 

Fuck, now it felt like a white-hot spike was slowly pushing into the tender spot between his balls and ass. 

Riki's left hand clutched his thigh and he doubled over in agony. 

He should be bleeding right now. 

The spike inched deeper into his groin, it seemed, crackling flashes of pain that brought tears to Riki's eyes. 

Katze blew a cloud of smoke at the ceiling, ignoring the wheezing sound that had creeped into Riki's breathing.

"I wondered, earlier. Did you feel anything? From the ring?" Katze's words seemed to come from far far away, echoing down a twisting tunnel.

Something about the long-distance range of the cock-ring. 

Pale as a ghost, Riki didn't answer. He had given up on pretending to be okay, gripping the ache between his legs with both hands. He managed a quizzical eyebrow frown in Katze's direction to indicate he didn't understand, sinking to his knees with a thready moan. 

For a long minute he writhed there, convulsing in pain. 

Just as Riki was beginning to think he might actually faint, ears ringing and dark spots dancing in his vision, all sensation stopped. A glorious absence of pain that let him gulp grateful lungfuls of air. Fuck it, he couldn't take a second wave like that! 

Katze's words rang loud in the blessed void. "When he took his glove off, Iason played with the ring a bit. Twisting and rolling it. We were off-planet though, so I just wondered if you'd felt that?" 

The words sank into the void like a stone into a lake. Disappearing with barely a plop before the ripples of shock started spreading outwards, outwards.

Riki's head rose, too much white showing around inky pupils. 

He repeated, in a voice strangely grey with lack of expression, "Iason took his glove off." 

Flustered, Katze stuttered through an explanation, stomach flipping. " Yeah, yeah. During the show. To run his fingers through my hair, Iason..."

Realization of what he was saying smacked him hard in the face. 

"Iason took his glove off." Riki whispered it again, unbelieving.  Trying to comprehend words that made no sense.

Silence descended as they both absorbed the implications.

Katze couldn't seem to breathe, all the air sucked out of the room. 

Iason took his glove off. To touch Katze.

" _Oh_." A shaky little cry, and suddenly Riki was moving.

Pushing to his feet, he stumbled a few steps towards the bedroom. Abruptly, he about-faced and collided with the couch. Blindly reaching out, he groped in Katze's direction, catching his elbow as it happened. Patting the shocked dealer absently, Riki licked his lips.

"Stay." A searing whisper. "I have to... You can't. Iason! Just... Don't go! 'Kay?" 

And then he was off again, a stumbling run. Katze watch Riki careen off the doorway, hardly slowing. Clumsy urgency kept him moving with flailing off-balance strides. 

_Hurryhurryhurry_.

Bed. 

**Now**. 

Iason was way worse off than Riki had initially assessed. 

His Master needed him. 

And Gods, Riki was ready.

... 

Katze sat frozen as the full impact of his words sank into his bones.

Iason took his glove off. 

... 

Iason took his glove off. 

Fuck, how could Katze have been so blind? He was so stuck in his own insecurities he hadn't even realized the vital importance of the detail.

_Iason had taken his glove off._

Iason never took his gloves off. Especially not in public! 

As his Furniture, Katze had witnessed how the Blondie usually kept his gloves on, even during sex! 

And now he had taken his glove off. To better indulge in touching him... 

In front of a whole room of witnesses. 

It pretty much amounted to a human dropping his pants and jerking off in the street.

Such a breech in decorum was unheard of from the First One.

Oh. 

Holy. 

Gods. 

Katze let his head tilt back, lolling against the couch. Closing his eyes, he recalled the evening with perfect clarity. 

Iason had effortlessly commanded attention as he sat, regal, in an ornate chair with gilded feet. The sweaty Pirate had seemed even more grungy in his wrinkled suit by comparison. Katze hadn't really had to think before sinking to his knees. It was expected from a Pet.

And it was easy, so easy, _too easy_! to slip into the role, just following protocol.

The floor was hard and cold beneath his bare knees, and Katze didn't really pay attention to the action happening in the center of the room. His attention was fixed on his Master's proximity. Never before... Katze had inhaled subtly, filling his lungs with the warm scent of Iason.

Iason's hand had reached for him, pressing his pretend-Pet's head to a hard thigh. 

Katze bowed obediently, even if it put a bit of strain on his neck. He was too tall for this to be perfectly comfortable, but he really didn't care.

He savored the strong muscles under his cheek, drank in the smooth feel of Iason's dress trousers. 

It was the most contact Katze had had in years, and he stored the sensations greedily. 

Iason's hand had traced his ear first, barely a whisper of touch. Gloved at first, fingers had carefully arranged the tumbled locks of auburn hair. Distracted touches that smoothed the tension in Katze until he slumped bonelessly.

As the Show progressed, Iason had grown bolder. 

Strong fingers dragged; digging deep into the thick mane, tangling in pleasant tugs. He massaged Katze's scalp, sometimes pressing fingertips to his jaw or the pulse point in his throat.

It was good, so good.

Katze remained immobile, eyes slanting like a cat under the heavy petting.

He felt loose, yet coiled tight too. 

Iason's fist had inadvertently clenched into the fine hair at his nape, a sharp tug that tore a wet gasp from Katze before he could catch it. 

Fuck. 

This was when Iason had removed his glove, oh so casually. 

Floating in a lust-filled cloud, Katze hadn't really thought much about it. 

Iason was tense beneath him, lounging with his thighs spread. Katze didn't dare look between to see if he bulged his pants-front.

Instead, he closed his eyes and floated in the dreamy pleasure of Iason's naked fingers confidently carding through his hair. 

The Blondie did the tugging thing a few more times, random sharp bursts of cutting sensation Katze couldn't anticipate. It made him shudder every time, and he could fucking _feel_ Iason's satisfied smirk. 

Then the show was over.

Iason curtly bowed his good-bye and Katze pressed the miniature needle to the trafficker's leg when meaty fingers groped at his ass. Iason stiffened, allowing the affront just long enough to let Katze do his job, then he was yanking him back.

The cool recycled air of the corridor had sent a shiver over the mostly naked dealer. 

Dragging himself back to the present, Katze was surprised to see a long thin curve of ashes clinging perilously to his cigarette filter. 

Well, fuck. 

Cupping a hand underneath, Katze hurried outside through the door Riki had left open in his haste. Squashing the cigarette butt under a pointed boot, Katze stared at the twin moons in wonder of the revelation.

Long fingers rose to press into his cheek. Fingertips crept over the familiar jagged bumps of his scar. Then slid unbidden to the hinge of his jaw, an echo of the burning brand of Iason's longing touch. 

Riki was right.

Iason hadn't dumped Katze in the foyer because he didn't want him. 

Iason had dumped Katze in the foyer because he wanted him _too much_.

Well, fuck.


	3. Katze waits

Riki burst into the dimly lit bedroom.

What the fuck?

Not a trace of Iason!

Only a giant bed, neatly made in silk sheets the color of butter.

Turning around in wild circles, Riki hesitated in bewildered surprise.

No Iason!

But...

Iason... Bed... Glove...

Riki was so ready. His brain whirled too much for him to be logical.

No Iason! A panicked longing welled.

Iason needed him!

_He needed Iason._

Even if he fucking hated himself for it.

"Lost something?"

The slow drawl contained a hint of humor and Riki jumped in surprise, relief a head rush.

He flipped around, barely catching a glimpse of Iason's naked form before he was smashed against the wall.

Iason. Too tall and glowing unearthly white in the shadowed corner, a hand on his swollen prick. The big member was dark and flush compared to all that flawless skin.

Riki moaned loudly at the hard thump of the wall on his front; warmth, seething radiating warmth, pressed all along his back.

The smell of Iason's clean hair evoked a jumbled mess of emotions in Riki.

Anger, relief, a thrill of fear. Longing. Anticipation.

Mostly longing though.

His asshole clenched at nothing, his cock giving a viscious jump without any prodding from the ring.

Iason's possessive hand stroked down Riki's flank, the other grabbing both his Pet's hands in a tight circle. The tug in his shoulder sockets as his arms were pulled high above his head was almost welcome, a familiar sensation.  _Oh yes._

Dry lips ran along the side of Riki's neck and Iason chuckled darkly.

"So eager." Iason pushed a knee between Riki's thighs, effortlessly spreading him. "Miss me?"

Iason's breath hitched when Riki shamelessly pressed back with a throaty whine. The hand on Riki's hip trailed around to his butt and a possessive finger lightly touched his ready hole.

Iason hummed at the slippery slide of lube, but he didn't...

Didn't.

Fucking.

Press.

In!

Gah!

Riki whined again, louder.

He wanted... He needed...

He wouldn't beg. No.  _He wouldn't..._

"Please!" A shaky gasp as Riki strained, arching his back.

Iason's contented chuckle was his only warning. Then the hand on his arms was yanking him unbalanced and the other hand roughly spread his ass cheeks.

Pressure.

Iason's blunt cock.

Instinct overwhelmed Riki, adrenaline flying to his head.

No!

Riki knew he needed to relax, to give in. Struggling was only making it worse.

He knew this, in his head. But the insistent pressure created a flood of panic and he couldn't seem to actually get his body to obey.

Pressure, unstoppable.

A slow advance, like a glacier. Inevitable.

Argh.

A sharp tearing sensation and Iason's giant dick-head suddenly pushed in.

Pain.

Too big. Not enough lube. Too much.

Pain.

Riki couldn't...

Red crept up his spine and his erection deflated.

Unperturbed by the tears on his Pet's flushed cheeks, Iason pushed in deeper.

A tortuously slow glide into his Toy's spasming body.

Riki sweated, fat drops beading on his skin.

Relax. Let him in. Resistance was futile. Just...

Riki  _couldn't_.

He arched his back, tight as a bow, and tugged with his elbows. Iason grunted, yanking his hands back up and taking a step forward that pushed Riki up on his tiptoes, splitting apart. Impaled.

He could feel Iason's huge cock rammed deep inside, so deep, - too deep- and it hurt, it fucking hurt and...

"Please." Whispered begging again, only Riki didn't even know what he was pleading for.

Take it out, give me more.

Glorious agony made Riki shake with rough tremors and Iason...

Iason.

Just.

Did.

Nothing.

"If I let go of your hands, will you behave? " Iason's voice was rocky, strained.

 _No_.

"Yes."

Large hands wrapped around his waist, inhuman fingertips pressing into the soft skin. Bracing Riki for the onslaught to come.

Oh, this was going to hurt so good.

The drag of Iason's cock pulling almost all the way out was too much. Riki wiggled in burning relief and agonized emptiness. His ribs pulled in giant gasping breaths.

A pause, Iason planting his feet more firmly and then...

A stroke back in like a punch to the gut.

Riki saw stars. He barely registered a sharp sting and then wet on his chin when he bit through his lip to stifle a moan.

"Oh, Pet. No." Iason's soft hair tickled Riki's lower back when he bent to lick the plumpness of Riki's shoulder.

"You will scream for me tonight."

"Fuck you." Riki spat the words out of habit. Katze was out there. Katze was listening. Waiting.  _Katze!_

Iason laughed, a rumble of pleased sound that spread goosebumps over Riki's chest.

Then the Blondie was moving again and Riki DID scream for his Master.

Goddamnit.

Toobigtoomuch, it hurt and fuck if a thin thread of pleasure wasn't beginning to worm it's way into the pain.

Deep regular strokes, fast and punishing.

Iason taking what was his.

Riki was lost, out of his mind with sensation too intense that grated outwards from the spidery pain of being filled.

He couldn't help the sounds that poured from his throat and he soon gave up trying.

Riki couldn't focus. Couldn't focus at all.

Past experiences had taught Riki a sneaky way to regain power. It was comforting to reassure himself that he was not alone in this, to listen to the subtle signs that Iason was just as affected as he was.

Riki had patiently categorized the little things to notice; a deliberate pause between the inhale and the exhale, a hand clenching. Iason would toss his head a bit, a little flick of his hair over his shoulder. A flash of annoyance in his eyes when his hips stuttered, losing the smooth rythm.

All of Riki's previous observations did absolutely nothing to help in the present moment.

Riki was too overwhelmed.

He couldn't hear anything except for the rush of blood behind his eardrums. His own screams drowned out any of the hushed noises coming from Iason.

His eyes were squeezed shut, finding comfort in the blackness. And anyway, tears leaked warm and salty. Even if he'd been able to keep his eyes open, there was nothing to see. Nothing but a blank grey wall and lower down his own dick, reddened and jutting forward like an ignored obscenity.

Riki's mind refused to process anything but Iason's hard member in his ass.

Pounding, pounding.

Fast hard moves, unforgiving.

Riki was swept away by it, incoherent and completely uninhibited. The screaching clamor of pain was dulling into a great ache of pleasure as his body unwillingly accomodated the onslaught.

Riki used his arms as leverage, trying to move back in counter-rythm to Iason. The Blondie towered a head and a half over his Pet. His strong pushes kept Riki off balance, bracing himself as best he could against the cool wall.

Oh God. Riki's abs coiled tight, mouth gaping.

Iason's scent on the air was sharper too, as strong thighs pumped. Cool linen, a hint of ozone. Not entirely human.

Addictive.

Riki's body felt so good, sensation engulfing Iason's cock.

Heat.

Slick.

Drag.

After hours of self-imposed denial, Iason basked in the carnal relief.

Riki was beginning to thrash more, face to the ceiling as he wailed his pleasure.

Because that was desire now, not the shrill of pain from earlier.

Iason's ball swung with his strokes, lusciously engorged from hours of arousal.

Soon.

His Pet had truly surprised him tonight. Riki could be so... Wonderfully satisfying when he quit fighting Iason.

Quit fighting himself.

Iason had entered his bedroom just as Cal exited, an armful of bunched sheets engulfing his frail shape. Iason had nearly been brought to his knees at the smells that assaulted his sensitive nose.

Sweat.

Precum.

Lube.

Tears.

Layers and layers of the same scents, fainter and souring or astringently fresh, wafting together in a tapestry that left only one interpretation.

Riki had spent the whole evening stimulating himself to the brink!

Iason had barely managed to get out of clothing that constricted, unusually awkward in his hurry to get a soothing hand on his erection. He'd paced, stroking himself and aware that he was losing his grip on control.

It was intolerable, this waiting like a servant. Even if it was by his own design. Three minutes. Iason couldn't wait three minutes.

He hungered.

Iason had given in and toyed with his ring, watching the constricting of the dark pupil and knowing,  _knowing_ , how it affected his Pet.

And now, finally, he fucked him.

It wouldn't last long. It couldn't possibly last long.

Riki's voice was growing higher in tone, a beautiful cascade of raw sound.

He was close.

So close.

And he felt good, so good.

Iason's own ecstasy was tightening, deep in his loins.

He was close, so close.

Though he usually enjoyed prolonging intercourse, increasing the gratification, at the moment Iason had no such patience.

Tonight, Iason didn't want to contain himself.

Did not even try.

Enough of that.

Time to end the torment.

His movements grew irregular, sensation too intense turning his rutting shameless and instinctive.

A shout was building in Iason's throat and it took all his strength to remember to swallow it down. It twisted out in a guttural sigh, as cut abs began clamping down in final surges of pleasure.

"Puh... Please. Hah."

Riki's broken whine somehow penetrated the haze of Iason's rapid climb to the crest. Cursing, he reached around and wrapped a hand around his Pet's forgotten cock.

Riki immediately convulsed, sobbing in relief as he finally FINALLY spent in twitching spurts.

Iason allowed his own release, helplessly.

His jaw ached, inexplicably wanting to clamp down and bite Riki hard. Yearning to feel the reassuring pull of flesh and muscle between his teeth as he marked him.

With a groan, Iason shuddered and came.

Terrible tension snapped loose, burning slick flooding his Pet.

Relief.

Finally.

The silver moon shone on the pair of lovers, twisting together in pleasure. A scene older than time yet cut-glass new. Foreign yet familiar, Blondie and Mongrel.

Master and Pet.

Each lost in themselves, yet indistinctly blurred together.

Needing. Giving. Sharing.

Bliss.

...

Slowly coming down, Iason licked the tendons stretching tightly at the base of Riki's neck. Apologizing for the fierce bite he hadn't given. God.

Iason's hips continued to move, slow sloppy strokes that were too much, making both Pet and Master whimper and squirm.

Falling forward to hold himself up against the wall, Iason cradled his slim Pet to his chest.

Timeless seconds floated by, the pounding in Iason's penis gradually easing. It took longer for his heart to calm.

Finally, wordless, he lowered himself and disengaged, wincing.

Riki slumped with a hiss, too out of it to do more than prop himself up.

Though his own knees were none too steady, Iason scooped his Pet into his arms. Riki grumbled vaguely about the bridal-style move, but he sagged gratefully and rested his cheek on his Master's chest.

An embarassed huff and the sudden sharp scent of semen informed Iason that the bent-knee position was forcing the results of his orgasm to dribble out of Riki's swollen hole.

Riki clenched hard, trying to control the slipperiness in the cleft of his ass.

Iason carefully deposited his humiliated Pet on the bed, then rolled him to his side.

 _No_!

Riki didn't want Iason to see how disgusting and ravaged he was. He whimpered, wanting to protest but too worn out to do more than shake his head stubbornly.

Iason shushed him absently, and Riki's cheeks burned under the fascinated gaze on his ass. His Master's hands were firm, insistently pushing his legs apart and digging a thumb in to better spread him.

With a muffled sob, Riki stopped fighting.

Eyes shut tight, he recognized the satisfied sigh that came from Iason.

Not disgusted then.

Proud. Tender affection.

Iason bit his lip, wanting desperately to lean down and taste the shiny fluid.

It was a depraved urge. He was ridiculous.

No Blondie wanted to lick his own cum out of his Pet's ass, no matter how mindblowing the sex had been.

He didn't. He really didn't, the Blondie tried to convince himself.

With a last lingering look, Iason made himself let go and turned to the bathroom.

First, to clean his Pet.

With a soft washcloth, not his tongue.

Jupiter. He'd need to find a way to erase the image of the slow trail of milky secretion from his mind.

Then perhaps a short nap.

Riki was a sleep cuddler.

Time enough later to figure out how to deal with Katze.

...

Katze spent a long idle moment on the balcony after putting out his cigarette.

He was trying to absorb the knowledge that Riki wanted him, that  _Iason_ wanted him.

That he was going to have sex later for the first time.

It was too monumental; his mind repeated the words but couldn't grasp the immensity of the concept. Katze felt a great crack slowly ripping him asunder. All of his carefully built walls, protecting the comfortingly empty plain of his heart, were eroding.

Iason wanted him.

Iason cared.

Certainly not reciprocating the fanatic adoring that Katze had steeped in for years. But still, tonight was proving much more than Katze could ever have hoped for.

He had no doubt that he owed the current development to Riki.

His feelings for the mongrel were muddled. Katze hated Riki, with gut twisting coldness, for having all that he, himself, had ever longed for and still trying to get away.

Katze had  _wanted_  to hate the mongrel. But Riki was pretty hard to hate when you got to know him. He was willful and intelligent, with a streak of sarcastic humor Katze shared.

Riki was a most unusual Pet. He absolutely despised the premeditated simpering flattery that was spread like sticky jam by his companions. Honesty was a rare trait in the backstabbing luxurious realm of Pets, one Katze appreciated.

Riki had grown on Katze, earning his way into the black market workers.

The dealer knew, with disgusting objectivity, that he shouldn't hold the other man responsible for spitting on Katze's dreams. Riki had his own hopes and dreams, which Iason had indeed destroyed when he tore him from the slum.

Katze resented Riki anyway. A jealous longing, smudged like an oily smear of anger towards Riki, for not appreciating the rare gift Iason bestowed on him. How dare the mongrel complain of being the one Iason wanted?

And yet he knew he was being irrational. Katze's mind was too clear to be subjugated by his own emotions, too used to taking a step back and coldly evaluating. At the same time, he was helpless to stop the turmoil. It was annoying and it complicated everything.

One thing Katze DID appreciate about Riki though, was his effect on Iason. As he had settled slowly, finding a reluctant place by Iason's side, Katze had seen his Master transform.

The mongrel had changed the frigid Blondie.

Melted his synthetic heart and ignited passions previously dormant.

Human passions.

Katze wondered if Jupiter realized how her Chosen was blossoming. Probably not, or none of them would still be there.

When Iason fell, Riki would go with him.

So would Katze.

There was no doubt of this in Katze's mind. Perhaps there was a slim chance Jupiter might allow him to beg himself into a new position, but he wouldn't take it. His heart, his life, was Iason's. Had been for a decade.

It was scary as heck.

Katze felt like a man condemned, holding the rope of his own demise in trembling hands.

Katze still had the power to say no. For now... But deep inside he knew he was already too far gone, his foundation crumbling away in a rushing landslide.

It was tempting to back out, to retreat to uneasy status quo. But that rope was already around his neck. He had placed it there himself, years ago.

It was too late.

Rubbing his hands over goosebumped arms, Katze wished he hadn't left the gloves in the car. The night wind was biting and Katze was quite exposed in his Pet things.

Obviously not going to find serenity in the glittering cityscape, Katze headed back inside before he froze to death.

The sounds of sex assaulted him, echoing through the living room. Katze paused, deeply uncomfortable.

What did Iason DO to his Pet to make him wail like that?

Wrapping his arms around himself, Katze felt as though his skin chaffed.

Would he be screaming like that too?

Katze's pale cheeks flushed with embarassement. Did he WANT to be undone so completely?

The cries did not seem to want to end anytime soon, and suddenly Katze couldn't bear it.

He was choking, that imaginary rope digging itchy and unrelenting into his neck. He needed air, needed space.

Space to think.

Space to get away from the sounds of coupling.

Panicked, the red-headed blindly walked deeper into the apartment.

Out.

Away.

Katze couldn't bear the wait anymore.

His high heals echoed sharply in the hallway, a feminine rushed clicking.

Mocking.

Suddenly, Katze stumbled to a halt, blinking in the bright lights of the kitchen.

His nerves settled.

He could breathe.

Iason's kitchen was unchanged. The familiarity comforted him. The kitchen had been his domain when he was Furniture. He felt safe, amongst those long rows of cupboards and impeccable black granite countertops. The screams from the bedroom were a faint echo here.

Sighing in relief, Katze let his shoulders unknot.

He startled at the sound of soft feet behind him, whirling and instantly ready to pounce.

Cal, emerging from the pantry with breakfast items in his hand, froze immediately at the threat in the dealer's body language.

Fuck.

Feeling trapped, Katze exhaled shakily, forcing his instincts to relax.

Gods, he was wound tight.

Heart thundering, Katze centered himself.

It was just Cal.

Cal.

The kitchen was Cal's place.

This wasn't his place, not anymore.

 _Katze didn't have a place_.

Cal's serious eyes evaluated the dealer, and Katze blushed, feeling extremely vulgar and vulnerable dressed like a sex toy.

Finally the Furniture broke the queasy silence.

"Would you like a drink, sir?" As if it was perfectly normal to have the Head of the Ceres Black Market half naked in his kitchen.

"Yes, please!" Blurted out too fast but Katze was too relieved to help it.

Cal set bread and oranges on the counter then waited, head bowed deferently.

Oh. Yes. Drink.

Katze didn't drink. Which was a shame, given the expansive selection of rare alcohols the First One possessed.

Tonight, Katze was sorely tempted to start but... No, he decided. It would be a weak excuse to blame things on drink.

"I'll have tea, please." Katze's voice was gentle, retaining some of the empty politeness of his time as Furniture.

Cal nodded, pottering about getting things ready while Katze slunk into a bar seat at the counter.

He waved away the large box full of tiny tins of leaves.

Let Cal choose which flavor of tea best suited the moment.

Katze didn't care.

He didn't even want stupid tea. He wanted...

Katze didn't know what he wanted.

That was the issue, right there.

Katze couldn't fool himself. The crux of the problem was that Katze knew that once he started to get involved, he would want it all.

Passion.

Sex.

Companionship.

Love?

There was no room for tentative initiation. If Katze opened up, he would crave it all.

He leaned forward, gripping the edge of the cold counter with both hands. Overwhelmed, his vision swimming; Katze tried to remember how to breathe.

The damn corset restricted him, digging into his ribs and abruptly. Katze. Needed. It.  **Off.**

His fingers were twitchy, picking at the shiny bow of satin ribbon and tugging too roughly.

It was a relief to feel the panels loosen; the ribbon made a pleasant  _shlick-shlick_  sound as he gained speed and pulled it through the consecutive loopholes.

Finally free, Katze placed the rectangle of leather on the seat beside him.

Minutely calmer, he watched Cal shaking tea leaves into a fine-mesh sieve. He felt more at ease; paradoxically less sexy, even though he was showing way more skin without the corset.

A particularly loud scream from Riki resonated, clear even from all the way across the apartment.

"Would you do it?"

The words were out before Katze could stop them. He bit his lips, swallowing down the apology that immediately followed. It would just make things more awkward.

Katze shouldn't force the Furniture to voice his opinion. It was... Trespassing of boundaries.

Cal had a right to remain aloof, untouchable and uninvolved.

 _He was Furniture_.

The slip-up shook Katze.

The dealer had never been one to share before. He didn't have any friends.

He didn't  _want_  friends.

Yet now, tormented, Katze felt the irrestible urge to be reassured, to feel connected in companionship.

He was drowning, too deep in his head.

He needed someone to point out which way was up.

Cal took his time answering, watching the steam that jetted from the kettle.

His voice was quiet as he admitted. " Not as Furniture, no. Iason already owns me."

Cal's face was solemn as he poured water over the tea leaves, a faint yellow beginning to bleed into the glass cup.

Not good enough.

Katze needed more, suddenly. He avidly needed to make someone else hurt.

"And if you weren't?" He asked, voice gruff.

Cal pensively considered the question.

They both watched yellowish-green swirls darkening in the cup, seeping lazily towards the bottom.

Face shuttered, Cal finally answered pointedly.

"I do not envy you, having to make this decision, sir."

Katze grunted.

He fisted his hands, aching to slap the boy before him.

Closing his eyes, Katze drew ragged breaths through the anger.

He deserved that. It was uncalled for of him to put Cal on the spot like that. Katze couldn't be bothered to analyze the subtle implications in the statement.

Katze was rarely violent. When it was necessary, he could be efficiently cruel. But never in a useless tantrum, like the red surge that shook him.

He put himself in time out, delicate white teeth gritted.

He wouldn't strike Furniture.

Gods, even his  _eyeballs_  throbbed with the pulses of restrained violence.

Cal was easy prey. Collateral dommage.

Katze would not make him pay for the bottled up anger that was not Cal's fault.

He would not.

He was better than that.

He caught a glimpse of Cal's pale face as the boy awaited his fate. Clearly Cal knew how his superior fought for control, yet he held his position. He didn't back down or apologize, the quiet courage of the suppressed.

Cal observed the red blotches of emotion that ran down Katze's pale neck; the red-head's body revealing more than his icy expression. He ought to have held his tongue, or just served up some soothing platitude. There was too much judgement in the truth, and Katze hadn't taken it well.

Cal waited, resigned.

Katze knew then, that Cal would not say a word if Katze hit him.

And somehow that helped appease the fury.

Dragging the cup of tea to himself, Katze plunked the filter dripping and hot straight onto the counter.

He took a big gulp of acrid liquid, burning his tongue in the process.

Tears welled along his lashes and something crumbled inside his chest.

Suddenly, Katze couldn't bear Cal's soulful gaze on him. Twisting in his seat, away from the counter, Katze pressed his thumb into his eye. Hard.

Fuck, he was losing it.

The ridiculous boots jangled when his knee bounced up and down, and Katze decided he needed them off too.

He was not anyone's plaything.

_Except he was._

Scrabbling desperately at the metal buckle, Katze couldn't concentrate enough to coordinate his movements. He yanked harder, blind frustration making him shake.

A tortured sob escaped him, and Katze curled forward, pressing a hand over his mouth.

Fucking boots.

Fucking Iason.

Fucking Cal.

Fucking... _fuck._

With a strident inhale, Katze realized he was seconds away from bawling hysterically. He could feel the sobs building, squeezing all the air from his lungs, and his throat hurt and... He still picked at the boot buckle restlessly. Goddammit.

He needed the things off, he wouldn't...

He couldn't...

Buffeted by too much emotion, Katze had forgotten about Cal until small warm hands wrapped around his.

Cal.

Fuck.

The Furniture knelt before Katze and began methodically undoing the boot's buckles.

Calm.

Sympathetic.

Maybe slightly apologetic.

Katze watched the fluffy hair at his knee, idly. His breathing slowly smoothed out until he dared removed the hand that contained the whimpers in his throat.

Back in control, melt down averted.

For now.

Gods, Katze hated how raw he felt. Scraped up inside with bleeding gouges.

Cal's deft fingers made quick work of the first boot. Slipping it off Katze's long foot, he dared look up.

A tiny puff of air showed his relief to find the dealer looking less upset.

Starting on the second leg, Cal remarked shyly "Riki will be disappointed these are off."

Katze barked a sharp laugh because yeah, Riki would.

Man, he wanted a cigarette right now.

Citrine eyes lazily slanted, Katze noticed how Cal handled the boots.

Almost reverently, movements graceful and precise. Hmmmm.

"You like them?" Katze asked.

It flirted with the limits of propriety,  _again_ , but Cal didn't seem offended.

He nodded, one plump finger trailing a wistful caress along the shiny toe.

"Yeah." Cal admitted.

Suddenly, the sexuality inherent to their pose struck Katze.

He towered over the slim kneeling boy. Maybe it was the servant's attitude, happily submissive.

Katze's attention returned to the ache between his legs, where blood had been pooling uselessly all night. He shifted, wanting to touch himself.

The skirt was unfortunate.

Katze placed a palm flat over his midriff, but he couldn't slide it in under the tight waistband.

Breath speeding, Katze carefully settled his hand on his thigh, on the silk stockings.

His fingers kneaded hard, just above his knee and his mouth twisted with cynical frustration. His pelvic muscles clenched, jostling his soft cock. He was aroused, again. He'd been aroused forever. He should have been hard, wanted to be hard, needed to be hard.

Except he couldn't do it, physically. His mutilated body required at least a few strokes to grow into erection.

And right now, there was no way for Katze to touch his dick. Not unless he spread his legs in an absolutely a slutty way, which he refused to do.

He wondered... Cal. There was more to the Furniture than he let on.

Watching Cal work, Katze decided "what the fuck." He had already put everything on the line tonight, what else did he have to lose?

"Would the boots make you hard, like they did Riki?" The indecent words were whispered, intimate. A secret.

Cal paused. The tip of his fingers lightly rubbed Katze's calf, sparks of sensation.

Finally, Cal answered breathlessly. "Yes."

The admission stretched into silence.

"If I could..." Cal's upturned eyes were like mirrors, reflecting too much and not enough. "Like you.." His hips twisted a bit, barely a flinch of movement in his loose tunic.

Katze silently nodded.

His breathing was too fast but he savored the moment as Cal finished undoing the buckles. Cal's chest moved rapidly too.

When the boot was off, Cal carefully placed it next to the other.

A sudden flash of longing, quickly erased, pushed over his face.

Impulsively, Katze leaned down and grasped the pointed chin.

"Keep them." A rough whisper. Cal made a choked-off pleased sound and Katze knew it had been the right decision. "I..Cal. Thank you. If Iason asks, send him to me."

Iason wouldn't ask. They both knew it. The First One wouldn't be bothered by the disappearance of a single pair of Pet boots. A small thing to him, monumental for his Furniture.

Katze kissed Cal then.

On his lips.

It was soft and dry, a silent release for too much feeling. Hardly sexual. It certainly contained none of the fiery passion of Riki's face-sucking kisses.

It felt appropriate, a chaste thank you between two Castrates. Alike and different.

Cal pulled back, grabbing the boots and hugging them to his chest.

With a stiff bow, like he coudn't believe his luck -like Katze might change his mind- he scurried to his room.

He didn't return.

Katze pushed away the unbidden image of what the boy might do with the boots.

It was none of his business.

Stripping the silk stockings off and dropping them bunched on the floor, Katze turned back to the counter.

For a long time, he sat in the harsh light.

A tall gangly form, naked but for a dark mini-skirt, toying with a cooling cup of Jasmine tea.

Waiting.


End file.
